This Fragile Thing
by Pannalid
Summary: Two years after the trio graduated from Hogwarts, and four after Harry unceremonially dumped them for fame and publicity, is there any chance of redemption when their paths cross once again? Rating subject to change.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing to do with Harry Potter, except for the plot of this story.

**Note:** This is story was inspired by a few different things, but the idea of This Fragile Thing came mainly from the song "Only One" by Yellowcard.

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**Chapter 1 - Prologue**

Harry Potter sighed as the Dursley's brand new expensive sports sedan stopped rather forcefully in front of King's Cross Station. With the key still in the ignition, Vernon Dursley turned around in the driver's chair to face his nephew in the back seat.

"Get out, boy," he spat, a contemptuous sneer hidden under his thick moustache. "I've had enough of you. Out!"

Harry didn't bother to bid his relatives goodbye as he climbed out of the car. Grabbing Hedwig's cage from beside him and his large and heavy trunk from the boot, he scanned the entrance of the station for a trolley. Finding one, he went to grab it, while the Dursleys sped off, no doubt in transit to celebrate Harry's leave from their presence for another year.

Harry took a deep breath before entering the building. He had promised himself he would do this; it wasn't for him, it was for them. If it was for him, of course, he wouldn't have even considered it. He made an oath to himself not to back out as he pushed the doors open.

Looking around, he breathed a sigh of relief - no sign of Ron or Hermione. As inconspicuously as he could, with a large trunk and caged owl, Harry walked quickly to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, grateful that no one was there. Without stopping, Harry began to jog right at the barrier, closing his eyes briefly as he went through the brick column and back out the other side onto the platform that was 9 ¾.

He quickly looked around at the young witches and wizards still standing on the platform, accompanied by their parents. At first glance, Harry caught no glimpse of the flaming red hair or the foresty mane of bushy brown he had grown so accustomed to. Taking no chances, though, Harry made his way to the third cart of the train. It was better to find a compartment there, instead of getting comfortable near the back, where they usually sat.

Finding an empty compartment, Harry hastily shoved his luggage in and shut it. _Lucky_.

Finally, Harry was able to sit back and take a breath. He couldn't kid himself much longer; he knew sitting in a different part of the train would only delay his friends finding him, not throw them off completely.

Harry closed his eyes, letting his head roll back and running his hands through his hair. He was making the right choice, right? Why was it so difficult if it was so right, then? He looked out the window, reminiscing about his very first train ride to Hogwarts. With Ron. Looking sharply away from the window, Harry came to a harsh, yet obvious realization.

Harry had always been aware of his uncommon desire to be at school all year round; he did, after all, feel more at home at Hogwarts than anywhere else. So, he had never questioned it. It wasn't until now, although, that he realized that it was at Hogwarts where he was surrounded by the people he loved. Ron and Hermione were hardly ever out of his sight, and they were always more than willing to lend an ear, or risk their lives, for Harry.

Harry groaned. He wished he could stop thinking. Thinking was clouding his will, and he wouldn't have that. Not with what he was about to do. Had to do.

Harry sighed. "School's going to be hell," he said aloud to no one, or nothing, in particular. Who would he hang out with? What would it be like in class, having to be in the same roo--

"Oh, _there_ he is, Ron, in the second compartment!"

Harry stopped thinking when he heard Hermione's relieved tone. She had seen him through the window on the door; it had only been a matter of time.

Harry sat up straight, screwing his eyes in concentration. The last thought to go through his mind, as he sensed Ron's hand grasping the door handle, was that he had had never been good at acting.

----

"I can't believe this. First, he doesn't show up at the Order, and now he plays hide 'n' seek with us on the train? I'm getting fed up," Hermione let out in an exasperated tone.

Ron nodded in response, looking into yet another compartment. He hadn't said much, but Hermione could tell he was extremely worried. "We can't look for him much longer, either, the Prefects are expected up at the front soon."

Hermione sighed, quickening her pace and re-examining the room Ron had just checked. She couldn't help but feel uneasy about Harry's absence. She usually didn't have to go this long without seeing him, and at the end of their last school year, their fifth, excited plans had been made between the trio for all their time at the Order's headquarters at Grimmauld Place.

Everything was going according to plan, as well, until they received a letter from Dumbledore a couple of days before Lupin, Moody and Tonks were planning to go fetch Harry from his mandatory visit to Privet Drive.

Hermione thoughtlessly touched her shoulder bag as her and Ron kept searching. Inside it was Dumbledore's letter, which she had read countless times.

Dearest Molly, Arthur, Remus, Alastor, Nymphadora, Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and anyone else my feather-brained self has carelessly forgotten,

Firstly, I must express my relief at all of your safe arrivals. Although, I had no doubts in the safety precautions put in place by Alastor and Remus. Still, it is calming to know everything has gone to plan and there are no bumps in the road as of yet.

I'm happy to announce that Harry is currently safe and well at his relatives'. He is fed and watered, and keeping himself busy with his jovial cousin, Dudley.

Harry has recently been in contact with me about his resting place for the rest of the summer. Despite the rather frightening encounter he and his cousin had with a number of Dementors this time last year, Harry has expressed interest in staying with the Dursley's for the remainder of holidays.

I warned him against this, assuring him that he has two splendid friends in you, Ron and Hermione, and that you were impatiently awaiting his arrival. But, he was adamant, insisting everyone would be safer this way.

Although the boy is sadly mistaken, as everyone will be safe, no matter where he stays, I can not do much to change his mind. The Dursley's humble abode in most surely under numerous charms and shields to protect Harry, and there is no way he can be harmed inside that house.

So, it is with this that I must ask you bunch not to go looking for Harry. We must respect his free will, as he would most surely do with us. He also told me to tell you that any mail sent his way will not be returned. "For protection" was the reason given.

Best wishes,

Albus Dumbledore

Even with the warning, Ron and Hermione had pestered Harry with owls. At first, their letters read of their frustration and curiosity at his absence. The letters were not returned. Slowly, the subject of Harry's mail had switched to simple updates about what was happening at the Order, and once in a while, they would send food packages.

Their letters still weren't returned.

All this, along with Harry's apparent absence from the train sent a foreboding chill down Hermione's spine, as she and Ron made their way up to the third cart of the Hogwart's Express.

"You know," said Ron, worry creeping into his voice, we can't look for much longer, we'll be in trouble with McGonagall."

Hermione clicked her tongue, straining between worry for Harry and the need to be on time. Elongating her neck, she saw something that made her body relax.

She laughed in relief. "Oh, _there_ he is, Ron, in the second compartment!"

Ron craned his neck to look as he kept walking. Seeing Harry as well, his face broke into a smile. After taking a quick look at his wristwatch, he opened the door.

The two burst into the room. "Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry took his eyes off of the window nonchalantly, as though he was just casually looking around the room. He looked at the couple, void of excitement. "Oh, hi."

Hermione could tell Ron was slightly perturbed by Harry's less-than-warm welcome, but he went on anyway. "Where were you all summer, mate? Why didn't you come back to the Order?"

Harry shrugged, looking out the window once again. "Don't ask stupid questions, Ron, you know where I was. I just didn't want to come."

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times, no sound coming out. He quickly cleared his throat. "That's not what you said to Dumbledore."

Harry snorted. "Oh, please, Weasley, like I'd tell him the truth. He'd try to fix the situation, and truthfully, there's nothing to be fixed."

"Did you just call me 'Weasley?'"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Good job, glad you spotted that."

The shocked look on Ron's face was replaced by an expression of slight betrayal.

"Why are you doing this, Harry? Why are you acting so weird?" Hermione asked hesitantly, trying not to sound too suspicious or hurt.

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temples before looking up at Ron and Hermione, who were still standing. "It's simple, Granger. I'm Harry Potter."

The simple sentence, said with such force, coupled with Harry's careless use of her last name, hit Hermione so hard that she felt the need to sit down. She didn't dare look up at Ron, who didn't say anything either.

Harry continued in their silence. "I'm Harry Potter. The god damned Boy Who Lived, perhaps you've heard of me? Last year I got a taste of just how known I am; just how much everyone hangs off of my every word or action. I'm an influential member of the wizarding world. One of the most, to be honest."

"Don't be a prat," spat Ron. "All you received last year was bad press! Half of us hated you, and _now_ you decided you like being famous?"

"You didn't let me finish, Weasley, mind your manners," said Harry calmly. "All the bad press last year made me realize just how public my reputation is. Now that I'm a little angel again, I need to preserve my good reputation." He paused, looking out the window. "It's high time I stop hanging out with riff raff."

Hermione couldn't hold back any longer, furious. "_Riff raff_? Since when are we 'riff raff?!'"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Granger. Weasley, how many times has your father been reprimanded in the _Daily Prophet_? I'd be surprised if he has any friends or admirers outside of the Order." Ron's ears went pink. "And Granger, here," Harry continued, "well, her type isn't exactly the most respected among wizards whose opinions really matter."

Harry said this looking straight at Hermione. Although, she wouldn't have known, as her eyes were gradually filling with tears. "So," she choked out, "you don't want to hang out with me because I'm a _Mudblood_."

"Well, I'm no Malfoy, I wouldn't have put it that way…"

Hermione stood up. "You're no better than him." And with that, she walked out of the compartment.

She heard Ron stand up behind her. "Congrats on being famous. You now have no friends."

He walked out of the compartment, slamming the door. "Let's go, Hermione."

----

Ron's voice muffled as he slammed the door shut, rattling the glass.

Harry sat back, punching his fist into the cushioned seat. Well, he had done it. He had pushed his two best friends far enough away that they would never come back.

Harry let the tears fall down his face as he turned to lie down on the bench. He couldn't regret what he had just done: as much as he had just hurt his comrades, pain was nothing compared to death.

Harry cared for no one more than he cared for the two people he had just pushed miles away. The problem was that Voldemort knew that. The trio had never talked about Ron and Hermione being obvious targets for the Dark Lord, but Harry had decided to take matters into his own hands after he had risked their lives last year.

Another wave of tears overcame Harry. His love for his two best friends could only be matched by his love for Sirius.

Sirius was dead.

_Well, now neither Ron or Hermione will die. People will stop dying because of me._

_I just wish it wouldn't hurt so much._

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**A/N -** I hope that was alright, it's just an introduction to the idea of the story. I have the second chapter done, and will be posting it later today. Thanks!


	2. Welcome to the Cannons

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing to do with Harry Potter, except for the plot of this story.

**Note:** Thank you for your reviews, **The Reader of Books**, **crazyknarf**, and **sonsofpitchesfangirl**!!

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**Chapter 2 - Welcome to the Cannons**

"Goooood morning, and thanks for joining us, I'm DJ Dartwinkle here on 'Daily Dartwinkle' for the WWN, the Wizarding Wireless Network! It's 7:00 on a beautiful Tuesday morning, here at our Hogsmeade headquarters, the sun is shining and not…"

Hermione groaned into her pillow. She had decided long ago that 7:00 was way too early to get up.

"…So right now we have the classic 'Broomin' All Night' by the Weird Sisters! Make sure to stay tuned, after the break we'll have the infamous Harry Potter, who was traded yesterday by the Ballycastle Bats to the Chudley Cannons! We'll be back!"

Hermione's eyes opened immediately. Hearing Harry's name usually sent a resentful shiver down her spine, but this time, though, she was too surprised to react as per usual.

A familiar Weird Sisters song filled the room as Hermione swung her legs over to sit on the edge of her bed. Two years after she had graduated from Hogwarts (top of the class, naturally), Hermione hardly ever thought about Harry anymore. Her and Ron hadn't talked to him since the first day of their sixth year. He had left them in a whirlwind of disdain and anger, apparently replacing them with fame and publicity.

Hermione shook her head as she jumped off her bed and ran quickly out of the room. Scurrying down the extremely short hallway, she knocked on the door opposite hers. "Ron! Ron, wake up!"

A grunt could be heard. Wanting to tell him what she had just heard, Hermione opened the door, flooding the room with light.

Ron was still lying in bed, shielding his eyes with his arms. "Bloody hell, 'Mione, what did I do this time?"

Hermione turned on the light, causing a fresh wave of groans from Ron. "Potter's coming back to England, Ron! He's been traded!"

Ron snorted derisively. "I know, Herm, look who you're talking to. He was traded to the _Cannons_. I'm aware."

Hermione didn't bother to respond. Realizing Ron didn't have a radio in his room, she turned on the spot towards the door. "_Accio radio_!"

Hermione's slightly old fashioned radio came zooming from her room, landing neatly in her hands. To her relief, "Broomin' All Night" was still wrapping up.

As Ron sat up against his headboard, Hermione walked over and placed the radio on the bed. "Listen."

"…And welcome back! No one can resist a little Weird Sisters, their reunion tour coming to town August 11th, owl us for ticket inquiries. So, as promised, I'm joined here now by famed Seeker, Harry Potter! What's up, Harry?"

Ron's mouth hung open as an unmistakable laugh came from the radio.

"Not much, Dartwinkle, just getting ready to settle back down in my home country. It's great to be back, that's for sure."

"Explain to me something, Harry - can I call you 'Harry?' - the rumours are relentless. What really happened between you and the Ballycastle organization?"

Hermione sat on the edge of Ron's bed, arms and legs crossed as they heard Harry sigh.

"It was getting ridiculous, it was. Let me get this out - I never threatened to curse our captain or_ our coach, nor did I sleep with his wife."_

Ron snorted.

"This is how it is, Dartwinkle. When I signed on with Ballycastle in '98, they told me I was going to be the club player; I was going to carry the team on my shoulders, and I was excited about that. Two years later, however, I'm playing on a team full of reserve players, still carrying the team on my back."

Harry paused, as though to allow his words to sink in.

"Barnest Magpie, the Bats' coach, told me once, 'You have to find the key, Potter, find the key to the truth of this team.' Well, I've tried. I've been searching low and high, and I've tried to find the key to fifty million fables. And none have had any truth to them. So, anyway, I finally went up to Barnest and said, 'Look. I'm looking for me, you're looking for you. We're looking at each other, and we don't know what to do. So, I'll make it easy: trade me.'"

Hermione laughed out loud. "Really, how cheesy can he be?" Ron shook his head in disgust.

"So, I got the trade. Ballycastle has no chemistry, and Magpie is doing nothing about it. Now, believe me, I play Quidditch for the thrill of the sport, but in the end, we all want the Championship. If I stay with the Bats, I won't get to get what I'm after 'til the day I die.

"Magpie's publicly called me a sellout and said that I lack real Seeker qualities, but in the end, I'm a Seeker, and I'm a really desperate man."

DJ Dartwinkle laughed. So did Ron.

"Harry, you're a great laugh. So let's move on. You're coming back to England where you'll really be in the public's eye for the first time since you--"

"Defeated Voldemort, yes."

"Right. How do you enjoy being personified as the ultimate hero?"

"Well, I'll tell you, having my own Chocolate Frog card is a huge deal for me, I love that. But it gets to be a bit much, to tell the truth. I mean, I'm really just a regular wizard. I'm happy when life's good, and when it's bad I cry. I learned how to raise my voice in anger, because I get mad as well, you see? I'm really no different than any other twenty-year-old guy, you know?"

"Makes complete sense, Harry. Let's talk about the Cannons. Are you excited to be moving to this team?"

"Oh, for sure! I'm completely excited to be joining the Chudley organization! When I was still in school, it was actually the Cannons that I followed the closest. That's not saying much, though, since I was totally cut off from the wizarding world other than school."

Ron glowered at he radio, but didn't say anything.

"Well, that's excellent for you, Harry, and the Chudley Cannons! Now, how about your contract? How long--"

"Shut it off," snapped Ron. "I don't want to hear about the five years he's signed for, or the 950,000 Galleons he'll make each year."

Ron kept complaining as Hermione tapped the radio with her wand and sent it back to her room. "_He_ followed the Cannons? What was it he said to me after I wrote something about them in one of his textbooks? Along the lines of, 'Write a decent team in my book for a change,' it was. Yeah, huge supporter."

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything, eyes glued to the floor. She had never paid attention to the Quidditch scene, she found the sport savage and barbaric. She was thankful of her disinterest, too. Because she couldn't have cared less, she didn't have to hear about how Harry Potter saved the Bats game after game, or how despite his gallivant efforts, Ballycastle lost once again. She wasn't forced to hear about Harry all the time in the newspapers, through other Quidditch fans, or on numerous sports radio shows.

Ron tried to ignore it all, Hermione knew that. He lived for Quidditch, and would be playing professionally if he could; he had just never been good enough. He never mentioned it to her, but their former friend was unceasingly mentioned in the Sports portion of the _Daily Prophet_, fondly nicknamed "the Bible" by Ron. He knew that it was enough that he, himself was forced to know Harry's every move, and that Hermione would plainly rather not know.

This time, though, Hermione was surprised Ron hadn't said anything. She found herself slightly annoyed at learning of the big news from an overenthusiastic Squib in a building ten streets down that didn't even know her.

Ron seemed to sense Hermione's indignation. "What's wrong, Herm?" he asked as he sat up, bearing an apprehensive look.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know… It's pretty big news, I guess I'm just a bit surprised you didn't tell me, or something."

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Ron groaned, "even _I_ didn't want to know about this! I mean, the Cannons? This is horrible! And I know you don't like hearing about him, so I didn't say anything."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. As much as she could see that Ron was keeping her own requests in mind, it certainly seemed as though he was a bit thick. Did he not think she was going to find out from someone else? This wasn't everyday news, like the results of a game. This was one of the most famous wizards of their time, moving back to his birth country. Still, shaking her head, Hermione didn't bother retorting. Letting Ron think he won was always easier than participating in one of their stereotypical yelling matches. "I'm going to get ready for work."

Ron was incredibly stubborn, and would argue until he was blue in the face. Facts and examples didn't matter to him. Numerous times, Hermione would prove herself right partly through an argument, only to have Ron reply with something so immature and bull-headed that Hermione couldn't help but continue fighting. He often acted like the obnoxious younger brother you wanted so desperately to smack upside the head.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Hermione risked sneaking a peek in the mirror. Scoffing at her reflection, she quickly turned around to prepare the bathtub. Hermione couldn't stand her reflection before her morning shower: her hair was always incredibly bushy, and her skin was slightly blotchy.

She hadn't minded her bushy hair back in school; after all, she had all she needed in Harry and Ron, and they didn't care that her hair was unruly. Once she had graduated, however, Hermione had come to the harsh realization that other people _would_ care.

Hermione realized that even though it was extremely prude and shallow, the wizarding world mirrored the Muggle world in the way that it was fairly image-driven. It only took four job and internship interviews for her to figure out that wizards were looking for a sophisticated, mature, ambitious worker who_ looked the part_.

And so, for the first time in her life, Hermione felt she had a valid reason to work on her appearance. She underwent a mass change: a haircut from an actual stylist, colour and highlights that didn't come from a bottle, an elaborate collection of make-up fit for all occasions, and a wardrobe chalk-full of robes of varying fanciness.

The alteration in her look caused Hermione to flush red at the thought of her plainness during her Hogwarts years. Although, she was far from vain, as she still refused to spend excessive and unneeded hours in front of a reflective surface that could be better spent studying or working.

Hermione stepped out of the shower, drying her sopping wet hair and body with a plush towel. For the following half hour, she utilized a mixture of magical and Muggle products, straightening her shoulder blade-length brown, bronze and blonde hair, enhancing her already large eyes and high cheekbones, and choosing a casual, yet formal robe.

Hermione immediately noticed Ron's serious bed-head and worn pyjamas as she entered the kitchen. 'Not in a rush to get to work today, are you?"

Ron shook his head, scooping some cold cereal into his mouth. "Dad'll be there early, I'll go half-day. Listen to this," he said after swallowing, ready to read from an open newspaper. "'When asked about the incredible increase in pay the Cannons have offered him, Harry Potter laughs off any implications of foul play. "I don't look at my pay until my agent shows me - he tells me what I make, he doesn't ask me how much I'd like to get. I'm just excited to be moving to the Cannons, I followed them with blind faith back in school."'" Ron looked scandalized. "Not only did he dislike them, but he doesn't even give credit to the person he's essentially pretending to be."

Hermione nodded in silent agreement as she whipped up a quick fruit salad. "Was he always flaky, Ron? Like, was he always like this, or did he just start after he ditched us and had no friends?"

"Now, now, 'Mione, don't silly," Ron said in a bitter and sarcastic tone, "he had his faithful and undying friends, Boot and Moon." He filled his mouth with more cereal. "He was such a geek, he had to go to Ravenclaw for friends."

Hermione didn't say anything, occupying herself with her salad. Living with Ron had taught Hermione a lot of things about the differences between them. Ron loved to incoherently ramble about the things that troubled him, while Hermione tended to keep it to herself.

"Herm? You okay?" Ron asked her.

Hermione nodded her head. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. I just… Let's not talk about… him, okay?"

Ron nodded. Looking at the table and stirring his cereal, he spoke up tentatively. "Maybe we should do something tonight… Take our minds off of all of this…?" He trailed off.

Hermione held in a sigh as she rubbed her temples. _Not again_. "Ron, you know what I'm going to say. You're a great friend, but I just don't feel the same."

Ron continued to stir his breakfast. "I never said it'd be a date," he tried half-heartedly.

The pair finished their breakfasts in silence. Hermione sometimes had trouble believing the gall Ron had. Once in a while, Hermione could see why Ginny had warned her against moving in with her older brother. _"He'll think you mean something or feel something that you don't, 'Mione," _she had said. Hermione had disagreed, simply saying that Ron was her best friend apart from Ginny herself, and he knew that their relationship was a delicate contradiction: close, yet platonic. Ginny had just shaken her head, wishing her luck.

When she finished her breakfast, Hermione placed her bowl in the sink and left the room to find her shoes. When she re-entered, Ron had finished his breakfast as well, yet he was still sitting in his chair.

"Well, I'm off," she said briskly. "I'm done at five. Remember, your week for the dishes!"

Ron waved her off, intently reading the back of the Muggle cereal box. Hermione drew her wand, and with a loud _pop_ that she couldn't hear, she Disapparated from the room. Two seconds later, she found herself standing in the middle of a dusty room filled with books.

"Who's there?" a voice from outside the room asked.

"It's me, Alika," called Hermione. Straightening out any mild creases in her periwinkle robe, she slipped out of the back room to the shop front of Flourish and Blotts.

"Right on time, as per usual, Hermione," said Alika, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Of course, of course," Hermione said absentmindedly, adjusting her nametag.

"I don't envy you today, Hermione," Alika quipped. "Pamelane called in sick, so you're working alone."

Hermione shrugged at the news. "At least it's the beginning of summer, and not the end. Besides," she continued, "it pales in comparison to what I've already found out today."

Alika seemed to understand right away. "Potter?" Hermione nodded. "I thought so. My husband was ecstatic. He was ready to celebrate, huge Cannons fans."

"Great," Hermione replied shortly.

Alika didn't press the conversation any further. She was a fairly brisk and strict lady, but still compassionate. "Well, I'm done in five minutes, so I'm going to let you get at it."

Alika disappeared into the back room as two elderly ladies entered the store. Fixing her smile, Hermione made her way over to the customers. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

The taller of the two ladies, sporting flowered robes and matching earrings, spoke for the couple. "Do you lot have books on Gobstone history?"

"Yes ma'am!" exclaimed Hermione, leading them towards a wall of sports books. "The whole left wall contains books on Gobstones, the table on the right has our bestsellers, and the cart behind it has books that are on sale. Did you say you were looking for history?" The shorter lady nodded this time. "Splendid. Well, the bottom row there is all history books. May I recommend, though, _Gregory Gimney's Compalotory History on Gobstones_? It's a bestseller, but this week it's one of a few books on Manager's Special - five Sickles off when you purchase another book form the same section!"

The ladies smiled. "Thank you, dearie," the taller women said. "We'll keep that in mind."

Hermione smiled. "I'll be up front if you have any questions. My name's Hermione if you need me," she finished, pointing to her nametag.

The ladies smiled at her again as Hermione turned to walk back to the front of the shop. Sitting herself on the stool behind the front desk, Hermione relaxed for the first time that day.

Hermione loved her job at Flourish and Blotts. She worked on a team of two other witches and one wizard. Working full time in the summer didn't bother Hermione in the least: the store was empty until late August, she loved her co-workers, and waking up early was good for her, anyway.

Many of the customers were frequent visitors: return customers who plainly loved to read. Reminded of herself when in school, Hermione watched and helped these people with fervour, keenly showing her knowledge of… everything. It was at Flourish and Blotts where she finally felt at one with people who understood her eagerness to read.

"Excuse me… Helen, was it?" The two ladies, weren't regular customers.

Hermione just smiled kindly. "Hermione. How can I help you?"

We've chosen," said the shorter lady (robes and hat of mauve and baby blue). She brandished four books: _Gregory Gimney's Compalotory History on Gobstones, the Anecdotal Gobstone, Gobstones in the Muggle World, _and_ Needlework Without a Wand_.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Hermione, taking the books. "So, it'll be seven Sickles, eight Sickles and five Knuts, ten Sickles, and six Sickles and seven Knuts. Altogether, that's one Galleon, fourteen Sickles and twelve Knuts!

Money was exchanged, and Hermione packaged the books. "Thanks so much for shopping at Flourish and Blotts!"

The women smiled and said goodbye. "Our grandson will love these, thank you very much!" And with that, they left the store.

The day went by slowly but enjoyable for Hermione after that. There weren't many customers - there never was in the early summer months - and Hermione was very adamant on her "two bug" rule. She refused to ask people if they needed any help more than twice, knowing how annoying over-eager sales associates could be. And because a lot of customers seemed to know what they were doing, it left Hermione scads of extra time to finish her book, _The Wand Exposed_.

Hermione finally left the shop front when Edwund, the owner of the store, Apparated for the closing shift. She grabbed a couple of books from the back - employees were quite allowed - before settling in to Apparate back home.

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**A/N:** I know, it's weird, but it'll work, trust me!

Parts of what Harry says in his interview are from the song "The Seeker" by the Who. I couldn't help but integrate into the story... When a song's called "The Seeker," it feels like it has to happen, you know? Please review, thanks so much!


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